


The Subjectivity of Truth

by collapsethelightintoearth



Series: Smart!Dean 'verse [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Arguing, College, Emotional Hurt, Gen, Hopeful Ending, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Nietzsche, Sam thinks Dean is dumb, Smart Dean Winchester, Stanford Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-14
Updated: 2014-01-14
Packaged: 2018-01-08 17:04:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1135223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/collapsethelightintoearth/pseuds/collapsethelightintoearth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><span class="u"><em>Prompt</em></span> [found at http://hoodie-time.livejournal.com/393050.html?thread=5087322#]:</p><p>Dean is at Stanford checking up on Sam. He stops in a bar on the way out of town thinking that since its a school night, Sam possibly can't show up there. Of course, he does. </p><p>Sam invites Dean to sit with his friends and tries to keep changing the subject to topics he thinks Dean can handle (cars, movies, etc). One of Sam's friends is a big jerk and turns the topic onto something academic. To everyone's surprise, Dean is able to not only keep up but he wins the debate. </p><p>Sam is surprised, Dean's hurt that Sam thinks he's stupid.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Subjectivity of Truth

Dean **_really_ ** hadn’t planned on sitting down at a table full of Sam’s college friends. It was by chance alone that Sam had caught him before he had time to leave the bar, their eyes meeting for the first time in two years. Dean cursed his slip-up; the visits he made to Sam had gone undetected until now.

 

But here he is, sauntering over and smiling in a way that only Sam can tell was fake. Sam gives Dean his patented ‘ _we’ll talk about this later_ ’ look, but nevertheless cheerfully introduces Dean to all his friends. His smile is strained, but genuine.

 

Sam breaks the ice with some mention of an awesome movie he and Jess (Sam’s girlfriend, Dean remembers) had seen, and conversation begins. Dean notices that Sam’s steering the topics away from intellectual matters within ten minutes of him sitting down. He’s hurt, but not particularly surprised. 

 

Here’s the thing: Dean’s never been stupid, but he _knows_ that’s what people think when they first meet him, and often for a long time after. He sees that happening now. Sam’s friends take in his beat-up leather jacket and cocky attitude with some degree of incredulity. They’re probably wondering if the two are really brothers, and Dean knows that he could easily encourage their impression of him, consolidate it into fact. It’s easy to play dumb. He’s been doing it for so long that it comes as second nature, and not even Sam knows the truth.

 

Dean is jolted out of his thoughts when he hears his name being called. One of Sam’s friends, Evan, a tall blonde guy who’s wearing an expression that Dean wants to _punch_ , turns to him. 

 

“So, Dean,” he begins, voice dripping with condescension. “What do **_you_** think of Nietzsche’s theory on the subjectivity of truth?”

 

Dean looks at Evan. “Sorry, man, what were you just saying?”

 

Evan sighs, then winks conspiratorially at an attractive girl who Dean may have flirted with under different circumstances. Her petty answering laugh pretty much ruins the appeal, though. 

 

“I was _saying_ , Dean, that there really is one ‘true’ truth. I can see where Nietzsche is coming from, but— well, he’s clearly missed the bigger picture.”

 

Dean meets Sam’s eyes for a moment, looking away when he sees dread and something disgustingly like _pity_ in them. An idea makes its way to the front of Dean’s mind. An unbelievably tempting idea. The emotions he’d seen in his younger brother’s eyes steel his resolve. 

 

Dean turns to Evan’s smirking face, and finally, _finally_ lets the masks he’s been building for most of his life fall. 

 

“I disagree,” he starts boldly. “I think _you’ve_ missed the bigger picture.”

 

Evan just laughs, but Sam stills, sensing the sudden difference in his brother. 

 

‘ _Good,_ ’ Dean thinks privately. ‘ _Maybe he’ll actually learn something from this_.’

 

“Well, you say that there is only one ‘true’ truth— nice phrasing, by the way —but there’s a lot you aren’t seeing. While yes, singular truths may exist by means of, say, mathematics, that’s not the _point._ ”

 

Dean begins to gain momentum. “An example would be the fact that the Earth revolves around the Sun, which in turn revolves around the galaxy. Despite knowing this to be true now, there _was_ a time when people believed the Earth was the center of the entire _universe._ The point is that, while yes, their views were not consonant with the ‘truth’, in their reality they were utterly true. In that reality— and in any reality, really —the technical accuracy of the truth doesn’t really matter. What matters is that those beliefs were held as the truth. Society built itself around them regardless of whether or not they were the ‘true’ truth. As Einstein said, 'Reality is merely an illusion, albeit a very persistent one.' " Dean pauses there to catch his breath.  

 

“On the other hand, you do have a point. The reason why an ultimate or fundamental truth _cannot_ be false is that denying the existence of it would be contradictory. I’ll put it like this. Suppose I were to say something like, ‘there is no truth’. There is **_no_** possible way I can say this and be correct. Because if there was no truth, then the **_truth_** would be that there **_is_** no truth.” He stops there, heart beating fast in the way that it would after a good hunt.

 

Sam’s mouth had dropped open by the second sentence, and still has not entirely shut. He looks at Dean as if he’s never seen his brother before. That stings more than Dean had anticipated. Evan’s face is horrified, and the rest of the table seems to be in a state of awe. 

 

“That’s why you don’t judge a book by its cover,” Dean concludes, smiling tightly. 

 

He leaves the table before Sam can stop him, even though he’s doubtful Sam will even try. 

 

─────

 

Sam does find him about a half-hour later, standing outside by himself. There is complete silence from both of them. Then— “How did you **_do_** that, Dean?”

 

“I opened my mouth and words came out,” Dean deadpans. 

 

“I’m serious, Dean. Did you, I don’t know, sell your soul for intellect or something?!” Dean can see that Sam doesn’t really believe he sold his soul. But the fact that Sam clearly thinks that _something_ other than genetics made him smart hurts. Badly, even though Dean’s spent his whole life hiding from basically everyone, so it’s not really Sam’s fault he thinks that. 

 

Dean attempts a smile. It comes out as more of a grimace, though, so he lets it fall from his face. Finally he sighs, dragging a hand over his face. 

 

“Dammit, Sammy. **_This is me_**. You want the real truth? I’ve hidden for as long as I can remember. I’ve hidden from you, Dad, Bobby, pretty much everyone we’ve ever come into contact with. And no, I’m not going to talk about why. No chick-flick moments, remember?”

 

“Dean—” Sam starts. 

 

‘No, Sammy. I get why maybe you thought I wasn’t a goddamn genius, but I don’t think I ever acted like _that_ much of an idiot.”

 

“And are you?” Sam asks.

 

“Am I what?” Dean says harshly. 

 

“Are you a genius?” Sam waits with bated breath.

 

“Yes. Yes, Sammy, I am.” With that, he turns and leaves. Sam watches him go, regretting his words, but most importantly his assumptions. 

 

─────

 

It’s four in the morning when Dean receives an olive branch in the form of a text from Sam. The text says, ‘ _What’s your favorite intellectual field?_ ’ His phone vibrates again.

 

The next text reads, ‘ _I’m sorry I never really knew you’._

 

Dean stares at the screen for a while before a hesitant smile lights his face up like a sunrise. 

 

He replies: ‘ _Mathematics as a whole. If we’re going to get particular, I’d say differential geometry and mathematical logic. And then there's philosophy. Well, individual philosophies that interest me personally, would be a better way to put it.’_

 

It was another hour before he responded to Sam’s second text, but Dean knew what to say. He typed out the three words and hit **_send_**. 

 

‘ _You do now’._

 

 


End file.
